Spark  A Tributee's Perspective
by AmethystSage
Summary: Lilly "Spark" Bolt is a District 3 girl with quite a history..and quite a future in store for her.    My first story :


"_District Three; the technology District. We're commonly known…and commonly underrated. A step below the two most desired Districts doesn't change the fact that we're pretty high up, class-wise. There are some things I desire still (isn't there for everyone?), but I have it pretty good._

_But the one thing everyone least desires? The stupid-ass Hunger Games. I've been dead before, but that unorthodox thing is quote a JOKE. Doesn't it sicken people to watch kids tear each other apart? KIDS, 12 to 18 it's just…ugh. If I could change it, believe me…I would._

_My name is Lilly Bolt. People call me Spark, because I had a nice appearance with Death. That's right, I died before. Surprise! Struck by lightning twice..one that killed me, and oddly enough, another, minutes later, that actually brought me back from the unthinkable._

_Do I consider myself lucky? HA, no. I'd rather have DIED then, so I wouldn't have to deal with my BS dad, BS school, and BS Hunger Games._

_But whatever..we can't have it all..that is, if you DON'T live in preppy District One. 'The Luxury District!' Yea, sure._"

I close up the tattered notebook my mother gave me before she died. It still has the butterfly, my zodiac, on the cover. Stretching my cramped hand, I get out of bed and walk to my mirror. My restless, aching legs are packed with muscle. I smile as I remember the compliments Anthony used to give me; long, toned, sexy..they all seem like yesterday. My eyes move up to my scarred stomach. _Man, did those crunches pay off,_ I think to myself as my hand runs over my perfect pack of six, _and that running too_..my eyes stop at the scar. That long, searing scar, once filled with volts of eager energy. I shudder and look at my face. My eyes are fully visible at night, with playful, curly blonde hair with brunette streaks. My hand picks up the one silver streak of hair, a souvenir from death, floating wistfully in front of my pale, piercing blue eyes. I suddenly feel a rush of adrenalin, and gasp.

The Reaping is in two days. My name would be put in the drawing three times. I shudder, and my collarbone is visible in the moonlight. Blinking slowly, I take a deep breath and walk over to the edge of my bed. Bending over, I reach underneath it and pull out my worn-out running shoes, state of the art flying mechanism, and a bow with a sheath of arrows to go with it. Hoisting and buckling the mechanism onto my back comes a little harder for me on this night unlike others. I tie on my shoes, attach my weapon to my back next to the flying metal, open up the window, and jump out.

I start to plummet down, into the trees and underbrush. I suck in a gulp of air and pull the lever cord as hard as I can. I feel an extending pull on my back, and exhale as I ascend into the sky. Feeling the cool wind on my face is quite a relief; I've heard of contraptions like mine that don't ever make it into the sky, leaving a gory mess on the lonely underbrush of the earth.

The sky is clear, the stars looking like city lights…the moon is a full sphere, illuminating and reflecting off the treetops, making them completely visible as I quietly dodge them. I smile to myself. _Let's see how much this baby can stand_, I think to myself and gradually fly upward. Soon, I'm above the clouds, feeling like I can touch the stars. I don't dare to look down; instead, I shoot downward. The wind whistles in my ears and I see the trees coming closer and closer. I start to pull up, but the contraption resists. Panicking, I start to struggle, but that only makes it worse. I fall faster, and faster still and eventually I give up. With one last attempt, I close my eyes, think of my zodiac symbol and spread my arms.

The whistling stops, and a cool, light breeze tickles my sweat-covered face. I open my eyes and see that I am flying slowly and steadily through the trees, inches from the ground. I laugh to myself, having dodged yet another fate with death, and whisk through the bushes, the leaves brushing my face.

I gradually slow down and come to a stop in front of a shallow pond. Un-strapping the contraption looming over my back, I place it under a concealed underbrush. I take my socks and shoes off, and gingerly place my foot in to the pond. The moonlit water is a perfect cool, so I sit down and place my other foot in, close my eyes, and breathe.

The wind tickles my face as I think about the upcoming Reaping. Who will get chosen? If so, how will it affect District Three? I feel my eyebrows furrow up as I think about it all. Eventually, I can't bear the thoughts of it, so I get up and retreat to my house.

I climb through my tree just outside my window, and hop into my room. Not even moments later, a hand slaps my face.


End file.
